


Vanishes soon after bedtime for good

by 00FFFF



Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Non-human hermits - Freeform, Tragedy, Transformation, character death (kind of), phantoms, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00FFFF/pseuds/00FFFF
Summary: Grian has been bitten by a phantom. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem in the slightest; just pop a health potion and you’re on your merry way. But the bite of this phantom caused a rather nasty infection, its venom coursing through Grian’s veins. It changed him, ever so slowly...
Comments: 58
Kudos: 141
Collections: Non-human Hermits





	1. Day’s gone

Mumbo will never forget the look on Grian’s face that day. 

He’d never seen him like that before. So... so _afraid._ The pain in his eyes, the way his lips quivered from the cold. And the _blood-_ He was clutching his shoulder which seemed to be missing a crucial amount of flesh. Grian looked absolutely terrified, and for a moment Mumbo didn’t know what to do.

Grian fell into his arms, which prompted Mumbo to kick himself into action. Mumbo hates to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t caught him; Grian already looked like he could drop dead at any moment. 

But as bad as he had looked, it’s the look on his face at that moment that burnt itself into Mumbo’s memory. That bore its way into his soul.

Grian had crash-landed on one of Mumbo’s nearby islands, and Mumbo came to see what had happened right away, freezing when he found Grian like that. Mumbo still blames himself for not taking better care of him that night. He did his best, sure, but it wasn’t enough. It never would have been enough.

Grian had been bitten by a phantom. 

Mumbo did what he could to patch him up, and messaged Xisuma in a panic after Grian fell asleep in his bed. His wounds were patched up hastily and wrapped in bandages that Mumbo had to change out every few minutes. He tried to get Grian to drink a potion of healing, but he couldn’t keep any of it down.

Phantoms could pack quite a punch, but their bites were never something to worry about, is what Xisuma told him. 'Happens all the time, don’t work yourself up about it.' Still, Mumbo insisted that he check up on him. He refused to accept any other answer, and only when Xisuma promised he’d come round first thing in the morning did Mumbo feel the slightest bit better about the situation. Changing Grian’s soaked bandages one last time, Mumbo finally allowed himself to fall asleep as well.

The next day Mumbo was woken up by Grian’s screaming. Horrible, high-pitched sounds that couldn’t have been anything but bad on his throat. It turned out that the phantom he’d been attacked by carried an awful venom, which explained why his wound hadn’t started healing, even after all that Mumbo had done for him. Xisuma had never seen anything like it before. Toxic green pus built up around the edges, muscles exposed and dark blue liquids seeping from within. Potion after potion he made Grian drink, without effect. The sight of his wound made Mumbo nauseous, he could only imagine what Grian must have felt like.

Xisuma dropped all his current projects; he turned his full attention to taking care of the newest hermit. He kept Grian high on painkillers, constantly monitoring him and trying to figure out what happened, and if they could do anything about it to help Grian heal. And after some reluctant altering in the code, Grian’s shoulder finally started to heal, slowly as it did. 

Grian couldn’t do much during that time. No flying, no mining, and no building. He must have ached to get up and about, but Xisuma forbade him from leaving his base. Mumbo visited every single day, telling him all about what was happening on the server, talking for hours and hours on end about his newest redstone contraptions. Was that selfish of him? Grian seemed to be enjoying his company, he always smiled when Mumbo entered his base.

Finally Grian’s wound had closed up fully, he was able to move his arm without pain, and he was free to go again. He had to take it easy, of course, but as he gained back his energy, Grian all too soon took to the skies again, flying like nothing ever happened. Mumbo had seen him outside one night, circling his base. He saw the phantoms that had appeared at his side, as well. He figured that Grian must have been phantom-hunting. Getting revenge for his arm, surely.

Mumbo saw him less and less during the day. Always at night, mimicking his attackers’ flying patterns. Swooping down to the ground to say hello, and angling himself upwards with ease, Grian’s telltale laugh constantly echoing throughout Mumbo’s base. He took to flying like a fish to water.  
Mumbo caught him, once, as the sun started to rise. He'd been working on his sorting system the entire night, and Grian just wouldn’t stop pestering him. As he dove downwards, Mumbo pretended not to notice him. But he turned around, launching himself at the Grian, dropping the both of them to the floor.

Mumbo couldn’t believe his eyes at the time, he’d been awake for so long that the whole world was looking a bit different. But... were Grian’s eyes always that bright? Were they always _green?_ Mumbo quickly dropped the thought. Grian was okay. He’s _okay_ now, there’s nothing to worry about.

Still, something about the sight freaked him out. And he couldn’t place why. Looking back at it now it should have been obvious.

Mumbo made sure to go to bed early every night after that. He’d had enough of those phantoms. He learned that Grian went on to pester other hermits who stayed up at night, who hadn’t slept in a while. 

Grian was okay. He was _okay he was okay,_ it was all _fine_ until that crucial moment. He should have been _fine, Grian was fine he was okay he was going to be okay-_

It wasn’t okay.

Mumbo still blames himself for everything that happened. Even if it was something none of them could have ever foreseen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dusts off notes from almost a year ago]
> 
> It’s spooky month, babey!! Time for some spoops and scares!!!! This one isn’t gonna be long at all, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless! Let me know what you thought?
> 
> Titles are from ‘Turn the Lights Off’ by Tally Hall, that’s how you know this idea is an old one :P


	2. Night’s on

Grian is out, flying effortlessly through the night sky. He’s been doing this a lot lately, he supposes, but he doesn’t think too much of it. He hasn’t seen Mumbo around a lot either, and he’s a little bored. Mumbo had been there for him when he was sick, and he liked hanging out with him while he was working through the night. But now he’s always asleep _right_ when Grian feels the most energetic, the most inspired to work on new projects or builds. It’s a shame, really.

He circles the air above the shopping district, and spots someone down on the ground, walking out of Tango’s rocket shop. Grian squints- It’s Iskall! Grian’s hands twitch, and he feels the urge to... to do _something,_ he’s not sure what or why, though. He swoops down from behind without a second thought, trying not to make a sound; he wants to surprise him.

He angles himself downwards, and launches himself onto Iskall’s back with a shriek of laughter. Iskall barks out a yelp, exactly the kind of reaction Grian had been hoping for, and he clings to Iskall’s frame.

He laughs, delighted at Iskall’s reaction. Iskall squirms and yells at him to get off, but Grian instead digs his nails into Iskall’s shoulders, amused by the screams he gets. 

To his surprise, Iskall pulls out a sword, and in the blink of an eye he slashes backwards, catching Grian’s arm. Grian hisses and lets go, falling to the ground. Iskall turns around, covered in sweat, his eyes big. 

“...Grian-?” But before he can even begin to think about what just happened, Grian takes off, spamming rockets to take him as far away as possible, shooting into the night sky.

Grian clutches his arm. It’s bleeding, but... something’s not right. He has to call Xisuma.

Blood isn’t supposed to be _blue._

Grian agreed to be quarantined, after that. He knows he must have scared Iskall, but frankly, his behavior scared himself the most. What was he even _thinking,_ acting like the very thing that had incapacitated him mere weeks ago? Images of his phantom hunting days flash before his eyes. The swarm that had surrounded him, their screeching calls for attack piercing through his thoughts. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t _think-_

Their attack was almost... coordinated. The freakishly large phantom that had bit his flesh not-so-cleanly off still haunts his dreams, which is why he prefers taking short naps throughout the day, instead.

Grian puts his hand on his shoulder. He can still feel its fangs. Can still feel how its venom had _burned._ And now he- And now he’s bleeding _blue._ It’s clear that more research needs to be done. Poor Xisuma, having to get dragged into it when he’d already done so much for him. He isn’t a free hermit yet, it seems. Neither of them are.

And so Grian works with Xisuma to make sure that his base is safe for him, and for anyone else visiting for that matter, as well. They seal off the different floors with redstone doors, set up an area for Xisuma to work in so he’s as close to Grian as possible, and make sure that they have enough space for anything else they might need. Grian helps Xisuma set up his computers and command blocks, the two of them even cracking some jokes as they haul all the heavy equipment up to the right floors. There’s plenty of space in Grian’s base, so it all works out nicely. 

He lays awake that night. What had overcome him to do something like that? What possessed him to just... _attack_ Iskall like that? It had felt like... He thought it was all in good fun, but Iskall had looked... scared. _Of him._

Grian rolls over to his other side, wincing at the burn marks on his arms. He’d gotten them this very day when working on his base with Xisuma. He hasn’t told him about them, though. There's so much Xisuma’s already dealing with, so much he’s already working on. It just didn’t feel right to drop more work on him.

Xisuma stays on the floor above him, working day and night. He’s instructed Grian to at least _try_ to fall asleep at night, to regain a normal sleeping schedule, so Grian has been trying just that. But he lays awake longer and longer each night, kept up by his nightmares. Until one night he finally decides to go up and see what Xisuma is up to. Grian’s tired, can’t sleep, and feels... _drawn..._ to the other hermit.

“Have you been sleeping lately?” Grian croaks, peeking his head in through the trapdoor.

Xisuma looks up in surprise. “Oh, hey, G. Didn’t hear you come in.”

He eyes Grian over. “Are you okay?”

Grian sighs, “Can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Xisuma says. He puts down the stack of papers he’s holding, and pulls out a chair for Grian to sit on. 

“Something’s bugging you, isn’t it?”

Grian sits down. Hesitantly, he pulls up his sleeves, revealing the burn marks. Black, scorched. Telltale characteristics of undead mobs. They’re not healing. 

“This happened when- when we were working outside,” Grian’s voice is barely a whisper, trembling. “I’m not sure how but... It’s because of the sun. It has to be, there’s nothing here for me to hurt-”

“Oh, Grian,” Xisuma reaches out and gently wipes Grian’s cheeks. When did he start crying? 

Grian looks up at Xisuma, the bags under his eyes which can’t be hidden behind his visor any longer. More tears start to flow. He’s working so hard for him, working day and night, monitoring him, digging through the code. Hours upon hours. Day after day, and what does Grian have to offer? It’s only getting _worse._

The corners of Xisuma’s eyes crinkle in a sympathetic smile, and he reaches out to grab Grian into a hug.

“You know it’s going to be okay, right? You're going to be _okay._ We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Grian, I promise.”

Grian sobs, clinging to Xisuma for warmth. He really needed this. _Of course_ he’s going to be okay. There’s nothing Xisuma can’t fix! And even if it isn’t looking like they’re making any progress, Grian knows that they will soon. It shouldn’t be long, now. It shouldn’t be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn't be long....


	3. Light’s passed

With each time that Mumbo visits, Grian seems a little worse off. Xisuma told him he’s not sleeping, and it definitely shows. Grian’s eyes are sunken in, his movement sluggish, and there’s an ever-present dazed, almost fearful look in his eyes. His responses get less and less clear, and no matter how many tests Xisuma ran, no matter the amount or quality of potions, they never seemed to work. Mumbo can see the will to fight, to thrive, behind Grian's now glazed green eyes, but he’s hurting. It’s hurting him to fight.

It’s hard to see in the dark room, but his skin had gained a blue hue, as well. Barely noticeable, but evidently there. Grian stopped wanting to go outside at all in the daylight, Xisuma tells Mumbo. He’s even gone as far as staying a good distance away from the blackout windows. Where they once went out ro get fresh air every day, Grian refuses to go out now, barely sleeping and even getting more active after the sun sets. 

Xisuma has different hermits come over, keeping the both of them company. Hoping that their presence will have a positive effect in Grian’s recovery while he digs through countless lines of code to figure out what exactly he was suffering from. To figure out what in the world is happening to him. If he could just find what it is, and delete it, then Grian would be okay, right? 

But even he can see the way Grian has changed. Not just physically, but mentally, as well. He’s not doing good. Not at all. The Grian they know and love is slowly fading, slipping away. 

One night Xisuma hears a phantom screeching, _way_ too close for comfort. He knows he hasn't been sleeping much, but there aren't any mobs outside. He's taking care not to spawn any phantoms. It’s eerily quiet outside, the waves below splashing against the concrete pillars peacefully. Another screech. It came from... below? The only person there is... Grian.

Concerned, Xisuma makes his way down to Grian’s floor. He fears the worst.

Grian glides in circles around the room, his elytra carrying him and allowing him to maneuver effortlessly around the tight space. It’s as if he’s pacing. Like a lion in a cage, waiting to pounce. Waiting to get out.

“Grian?” Xisuma calls out. “Grian, can you hear me?”

It must have snapped Grian from his trance, because he comes tumbling down to the ground almost immediately, Xisuma just barely catching him before he hits the ground. He takes note of how light Grian feels in his arms.

“...X?” Grian asks, his voice barely audible. Xisuma holds him tight.

One night Mumbo is woken up at an ungodly hour. Xisuma tells him to get over, quickly. It's urgent. Mumbo wastes no time and rushes over, spamming rockets to get there faster, _faster._ The cold winds bite and nip at his face, but he pushes through. Something’s happening. Grian needs him.

Drenched in sweat he lands next to Xisuma, who swiftly takes his hand and leads him down into Grian’s room. Mumbo’s heart is beating out of his chest by the time they reach his floor.

“He’s in pain,” Xisuma says. “He called for you.”

Grian is on the floor, writhing in pain. He's clutching his head, whimpering, _screeching_ , clawing at his throat. The pained sounds escaping his mouth pierce through Mumbo’s skull. 

Mumbo, despite how _terrified_ he is of the scene before him, crouches down to put a hand on Grian’s back. To attempt to soothe him, to help him calm down. Grian shoots up and he looks at Mumbo. Grian’s eyes search his, tears obscuring his vision. Mumbo meets Grian’s eyes with concern. He’s searching for something. What, Mumbo doesn’t know.

"Grian?” Mumbo asks. “What's wrong? What's happening?"

A choked sob escapes Grian’s mouth. Or what is left of his mouth.

“It hurts,” He whispers, voice strained, raspy. “It hurts so bad, Mumbo. Help me.” He collapses then, passing out into Mumbo’s arms. 

_‘Help me.’_

Those were the last words that Grian spoke to him. Those were the last words that Grian spoke at all.

The pinchers that his mouth had morphed into prohibited any kind of coherent speech from there on out. Mumbo could see it in his eyes every time Grian tried to speak; helplessness. He’s so scared, and _still_ he never gives up the fight. Being able to look at himself day after day, stuck inside, inside of his own changing body, he must be _terrified._ Grian could still use his communicator to type, but his vocal range was quickly limited to incomprehensible gargles, groans, and screeches.

It pains Mumbo’s heart to see him like that. He’s hurting, and there’s nothing he can do to help.  
He visits every single day, of course. It’s the least he can do. Mumbo brings him food and building materials. Books to read and simple redstone contraptions that he sets up for Grian to play around with. The vast emptiness inside of Grian’s base lends itself perfectly for smaller indoor-projects like that. 

Mumbo can see how each day he lost a little bit of will to fight. It's- it's not looking bright. Mumbo knows how much he’s trying. He knows how hard he is fighting. It isn’t _fair._

At that point he knows. They all know for sure. Even Grian must have known. Mumbo doesn’t want to admit it, because then it’d be _real_. 

Grian is turning into a phantom.

Mumbo is sat with Grian as he tries to fall asleep. Rubbing circles on his back, vaguely noting the leathery texture of his skin. His sickly blue skin, the pincers that had deformed his face. Grian’s suffering, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Mumbo hates himself for not being able to do anything. He just wants to see his friend return to his normal, lively self. He’d do anything, but there’s- there’s nothing he can do. 

It feels like he’s being ripped apart from the inside, bit by bit. Watching his friend get taken away, watching him _change._ But he has to hold on to the hope that he could be saved. He _has_ to. For Grian. For Xisuma. Even for himself. But Mumbo, too, can feel that hope slipping away from him with each day that passes. 

Each day that Grian’s screeches get more and more inhuman. Each day that it takes a little longer for him to recognize Mumbo. For that predatory look in his eyes to fade with recognition and shame. For Grian to clutch at his suit, begging to be comforted. To be told that it would be okay, that they would find a way to fix him. 

Mumbo has to hold on. But he knows that the day will soon come when Grian won’t recognize him anymore. A husk of his former self, truly undead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be out on Halloween..!!


	4. Light’s gone

Grian is holding onto the last slivers of his consciousness. He knows he is. Xisuma hasn’t told him, but he knows. He can see it in the way Xisuma searches the code with desperation. He can hear it in Mumbo's voice when he talks to him. He can see it in the look of their eyes when they visit him.

_Fear._

He tries so hard to fight it, but it _hurts_ _._ He can’t eat, he can’t sleep. And every night he _does_ manage to catch some sleep he loses a little bit more of himself when morning comes. Waking up, but not really being awake. His vision clouded with green, focusing on the smallest of movements. It used to scare him how natural it all feels. Grian doesn’t even dare try to speak, the sounds he produces frightening both him and anyone near enough to hear it.

He hasn’t taken his elytra off in a long while, either. Flying in what little space he has is one of the few things that kept his mind busy. Distracted. When Xisuma asked him if he could take it off they found that it had somehow fused to his back. He can still use them, though. It barely fazes him anymore. Honestly, it feels kind of... _natural,_ in a way. It feels right.

Over the course of time they start morphing into a set of proper phantom wings. Grian can't help but be horrified at how _freeing_ it feels.

He knows he’s done for. He’s beyond saving. But that part of him is being clouded, pushed to the back of his mind. Is it a coping mechanism? Is it because of the venom? He doesn’t care. But he has to stay strong. He has to fight it, fight the transformation. Each day Grian can feel himself slipping further and further down. Waking up after blacking out, circling inside his base from the ceiling. Swooping down on unsuspecting creatures that enter his ~~territory~~ _room_. He finds it harder and harder to type on his communicator. Words are just... too much effort. So he stays silent, most of the time.

Grian listens to Mumbo’s stories. He likes it. Loves it, even. He wants so badly to tell him. Tell him how much it means to hear his voice every day, talking to him like nothing’s changed. He wants to apologize for his behaviour. For swooping down on him every time Mumbo enters his room, for screeching at him and hurting his eardrums when he laughs. He wants to thank Xisuma for working non-stop, monitoring him, taking care of him. Never giving up hope. 

The stories about what all the other hermits are up to, out there. It gives him just enough hope that one day, he could join them again. They’d all be together again and laugh at that time Grian almost turned into a-

Grian’s breath gets caught in his throat. Tears fall from his face. The corners of his mouth fight his changed face in an attempt to contort into a saddened smile. He hasn’t cried in so, so long. Grian relishes in the feeling of the salty tears down his cheeks. He’s still human. He’s still human, after all.

But he isn’t getting better. Xisuma is working day and night to try and help him, and Mumbo spends so much time every single day that could be spent so much wiser. All their efforts, their energy is wasted on him. Maybe, if he gives in, then they won’t have to worry about him anymore. Xisuma can finally get some sleep. Mumbo can get back to his redstone farms. The hermits can get back to their lives without bothering with him anymore. They can get back to how things were before he got here. It'd be peaceful. They'd be happy. Yes, it’d be for the best, Grian tells himself. 

It’d be for the best.

He never came back, after that night.

Grian must have slipped away, his phantom instincts completely taking over his mind.

Mumbo knew. They all knew, but none of them wanted to say it. It wasn’t Grian anymore. He attacked him like any other phantom, and the look of recognition never came. His eyes ever feral, breaking Mumbo’s heart.

Much like Grian that fateful night, Mumbo lost a chunk of flesh.

But he never got infected.

Mumbo would stay human, while his friend- while _Grian_ had lost his life, stuck as a sickly hybrid between a hermit and a phantom. A monster. 

“Hey, Gri.” Doc enters the airlock to the phantom run, the gravel wall closing behind him. The hermit-phantom sits perched on a rock near the ceiling, eyeing him cautiously. It- _he_ must know that Doc's here to feed him. Doc doesn’t know when they started calling him ‘it’, but he supposes it’s around the time he stopped recognizing his fellow hermits.

They still care about him. He knows that they all secretly hoped, still secretly hope that somewhere in that husk, there’s still a sliver of him left. They don’t have the knowledge, or the technology right now, but perhaps, in the future, they will. Grian could come back.

He’s growing ever more phantom-like by the day. It’s only a matter of time until Grian would be indistinguishable from the other mobs.

Doc takes care of him, now. It was a decision that the whole server agreed to. The thing that lived in Grian’s base was not Grian anymore. When it attacked Iskall and nearly ripped his arm clean off, they decided that they had to take action. So the hermits came to the decision to let what was once Grian live here, with the other phantoms on the NHO island. They all seemed to get along well together. He behaves well when Doc comes to feed them, too.

Phantom Run, meanwhile, is closed for business. It just didn’t feel right to keep it open after everything that had transpired. But neither did keeping him, _it_ in there, in Grian's base. It felt wrong to do so. It's so close to the shopping district, the hermits would be able to hear its cries from inside. Reminding them of what he'd become.

Everybody slept from there on out. But not without worry. Every night that phantoms circled the sky above them was a reminder of what had happened. They’d never forget. Mumbo could never forget. 

He’d gone so fast. He was only on the server for a couple months, before he started to- Mumbo wipes at his tears. He didn’t deserve this. This never should have happened. Grian had gone from the brightest man in the entire area to... whatever it is he is now so, _so_ quickly. 

Mumbo clutches his chest. If only he could have done something. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop blaming himself for what happened that night. That night he landed next to his base, covered in blood. The look of horror. The _pain._ That very, very _human_ look.

He will never forget the look on Grian’s face that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oop-
> 
> Tragic body horror is my _jam!!_  
>  Spooky month just got a whole lot spookier >:3c
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading!!!! I hope you enjoyed! Have a wonderfully spooky rest of the day/night!!!!


End file.
